I worked until late last night, dotting the occasional i, crossing the occasional t, threatening to throttle the Bigger of the Cats if he didn’t remove his hairy arse off my paperwork – to no avail I might add, when a pal sent me a link to a piece in the Guardian on ‘Regrets of the Dying’ and phoned not long after, slightly sqiffy I might add.
This friend has recently broken up with a girl he was destined to marry and in a fairly upsetting and heated argument she told him she regretted ever meeting him, and regretted that she had ‘allowed him to string’ her along for so many years.
The latter accusation in particular had buried under his skin the most and he wanted the Fatcat Oracle that is me to dig it to the surface. Had he strung her along? Was it obvious he was never going to tie the knot with her? Why would he do that? Was he that guy?
Well, I had no real answers, I cannot see into men’s hearts. My theory on love is the same now as it ever was; love is not a word, it is an action. You love someone, you want to make them happy, you want them to be happy, you want to feel happy, you do everything in your power to make this want a reality. Was he happy? No. Was his ex? No. Was that love? To my mind I’d say no. But like I say, that’s just my view, and he asked for it.
After I had thrown both cat and phone onto the sofa and retired to my reading chair, where the accursed cat then rejoined me, I couldn’t quite put our conversation out of my head. I laid down my book and pondered awhile on regret. It’s such a waste of energy, isnt’ it? A pointless exercise. What does it mean to regret? What can one do about the past, it’s the past, it cannot be altered or changed so why bother with regret?
I thought I had some regrets, I thought I regretted that I never studied to become a vet, but actually I don’t really because I like my career and it’s getting more interesting every year. I used to think I regretted some of my earlier decisions in life, but it turns out I don’t, now I see that they were made honestly with the information I had at the time, pertaining to the situations I found myself in, and had I made different ones I would not be the person I am today. Frankly, as I totter towards fourty, I’m okay being me.
My friend is not okay being him at the moment, mostly because he feels regret and guilt, another pointless waste of time. Mostly, I’d wager, because deep down he knows some of the accusations leveled at him are true and that arrow into his character is wounding. Too bad, he’s going to need to deal with it, accept the wound, let it heal. No festering.
Do or do not, Yoda warned a young Sky Walker, there is no try. There ought not to be regret either. Make your decisions in life, take the outcome on the chin. Be sure, be firm, leave the past behind, hakuna matada, spread some ginger love, fuck regret. Fuck it right out the window. And on that note let us gaze upon the Ginger Stud Love Muffin so that our Gingerday can get off to a fine start. 
February 3, 2012 at 12:37 pm |
Leaving aside the eyeliner and incipient melanoma…
I’m 100% with you on the regret thing… learn, move on, fail, try again, accept some things, learn, move on… what’s the point of dwelling on the forks in the road behind you? On to the next challenge, even if the progress is slow…
February 3, 2012 at 1:32 pm |
Indeed, take what you learned, use it to make better choices, keep going. * hopes there is a photo of eyeliner*
February 3, 2012 at 1:38 pm
eh… that’d be your Friday GSLM with the eyeliner and incipient melanoma…
February 3, 2012 at 1:40 pm
SHURE it is. ;-P
February 3, 2012 at 1:49 pm
Oh, I have no regrets about my own use of eyeliner in the dim and distant past… all part of the job, so to speak.
February 3, 2012 at 1:59 pm
Somewhere, across the land, Sniffle just fainted.
February 3, 2012 at 12:40 pm |
I never knew who that ginger monster you keep posting was till I saw him roasting Larry Sanders a few weeks ago.
He is as funny as he is handsome.
As for your friend,I think the choice of words “allowed” him to string her along says alot.It takes two to tango buddy.
February 3, 2012 at 1:31 pm |
I suspect she knew he wasn’t going to marry her on some level too, but the whole situation is rather unpleasant. One that I will be keeping out of. Something else Ive learned with age.
February 3, 2012 at 2:48 pm |
Heh- Sounded a bit Carrie-ish there, Ms Cat – was expecting to see a leaf flutter down my screen.
That article is profound and can only do good .
Are you a bit harsh on your pa though ? – you must be into that tough love – don’t bust my chops now .
A thought provoking piece – thanks
February 3, 2012 at 3:53 pm |
I’m not even sure what ‘tough love’ is, but I listened, made the appropriate ‘mm’ and ‘I see’ responses, can’t really do more than that other than say what I think when I’m asked. Only he can answer her questions, and only he knows the what and the why of the situation at is not stands. I imagine if he wanted to be married to her he’d be married to her, and he’s not, so…well, there you have it.
February 3, 2012 at 9:51 pm
On mature reflection FMC – mature reflection indeed – sorry for my judgemental self.
What you said about love was profound too, just like what the guardian article said about regret – and your deconstruction of love into an active and of necessity, a happy process made me think. Spot on there kid really, with the love thing.
I’d like to think my friends tell me the way it is rather than the way I’d like to hear – and mercifully , I have a few of them. Sounds like you are the same to your pal.
But here’s a thing *pulls jacket together a lá every boy’s favourite shinner Marylou* – Drumm must be barred – must be cast out and shunned for his eyeliner digressions. I know he robbed that tabernacle too , fmc, and must be a protestant as well FMC.
Although, I do remember once, only once, and a while back, more than a while really, and there was a girl and she was divine and so was I. And I forgot to take it off, the eyeliner stuff, and by forgot I mean, I quiet liked the liberation. ( One of my pals was aghast – it WAS 30 years back)
But ban his protestant Drumm ass anyway.
February 3, 2012 at 2:53 pm |
sorry – “harsh on your pal” that should have read .
i truely have an attack of the vapors *looks for smelling salts*
cut my legs off and call me shorty – conan drumm in eye liner !
February 3, 2012 at 3:20 pm |
And that was after my early glam-rock years…
February 3, 2012 at 8:02 pm |
That’s excellent. That horrifying pic of carrott top, however, reminds me of the Larry Sanders Show. “Arty, he’d suck a cock during a sack race, I said that durung a roast. I really should apologise”
February 5, 2012 at 10:31 am |
That’s a heck of an expression!
February 3, 2012 at 8:19 pm |
Given that he feels so cut up, your friend seems like a decent guy. I doubt anyone invests time and effort into a relationship they know from the offset won’t work. Maybe he just fell out of love. Do you really think you’d spend years with a person with no long term intentions?
I don’t know about not having regrets and learning from mistakes. It is hard not to regret things when you are still suffering from them. Even the more inconsequential ones can be a pain in the hoop to think about, like causing ructions before ones wedding and taking the good out of it for your mother and indeed groom.
And since you spoke of the stalker mini cats, between cat hair and the 30ish bucks a week they cost my two maybe edging toward the regret basket.
February 5, 2012 at 10:36 am |
I think in this case he was comfortable in the relationship, but honestly, I don’t think he ever had the intention to marry, and that’s why her accusations stung as painfully as they did. I was talking to another friend about it yesterday and she said she wouldn’t be surprised if he went off, met a girl and married her in the space of a month. And no sooner had she said that I thought ‘she’s right.’
As to cats, I still owe Diamond Mark a fortune for the Bigger of the Cats weekend stay last month. I only paid half the bill In January, the rest to be paid this month. What do I get for my trouble? A large yowly monster who hates leather and doors.
February 5, 2012 at 1:01 pm |
Oh, sad for both of them. I kinda feel more sorry for the girl. ye know, she probably had an inkling but always hoped he would change and then the whole biological clock thing……. Messy, I would certainly be keeping my oar out of that one.
Leather chairs, it doesn’t matter what you buy they will still wreck them. Material/cord etc. will be covered in cat hair. Velour is most enteraining, you can cover it in hair, shred it or just bite chunks out of it. Hilarious altogether. An enormous scratching post seems to be quite effective though.
My cat was sick last year, he was only 8 and we didn’t know what was wrong with him, Lots of tests later and during surgery the vet phoned to say he was fucked. Every single person I spoke to told me they would have put him down as soon as the vet quoted the fees. I bitched about it but still, I probably would have sold one of my husbands kidneys to try save him. My new strategy is to try not make eye contact with anything cute and furry.
February 5, 2012 at 10:21 pm |
Wasn’t clear about that, little bit tipsy. That expression was actually used about Carrot Top on the Larry Sanders Show.
February 5, 2012 at 11:21 pm |
That just makes me love him more.
February 12, 2012 at 7:04 pm
Oh dear!